


Mephistopheles of the Reach

by Jaybeesaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Dean, Alpha OMC, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beta Sam, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Omega Castiel, gender as being labeled in an a/b/o (omegas are referred to as women would be), gender mislabelling, kingdoms at war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:31:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeesaur/pseuds/Jaybeesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's hand in marriage has been promised to a violent and unpredictable Alpha from a neighboring kingdom as part of a treaty to avoid war with outsiders that fear a tyrant taking the throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Runaway Bride

Castiel never quite understood why the Winchesters took him in. When they found him, he was nothing more than a lowly coward. He had run away from his troubles, from his family and his fears. The Winchesters were simple farmers, humble and kind. They found Castiel, terrified and dirty, on the run from his own father, king of the Border.

Castiel was no heir, he was an omega, but as his father's only child it was his responsibility- no, his duty- to unite with a son of the Reach, his kingdom's ally; a young, strong alpha by the name of Mephistopheles. But Mephistopheles was cruel and villainous; his own father was frightened by his hunger for blood. He made a great war General, but the entire kingdom and it's allies, including Castiel's own, feared that he would one day bring the end-times if he was ever allowed to take the throne without first taking a wife. Alphas were vicious animals, with instincts that could only be tamed by possessing an omega wife. But omega wives were hard to come by when you were known for your temper and unpredictable violence.

Castiel's hand in marriage was offered up in an attempt to placate the outside forces threatening to invade the country to prevent Mephistopheles from seizing the throne unwed. His father's health was failing, his mother long dead, and being the only surviving member of the family of alpha status granted him unbarred and unchallenged reign in the event of his father's death.

Castiel's father feared war with the outsiders who lived in the Meadow, they were known for their numbers and unwavering dedication to the causes they took up arms for. The three kingdoms had signed a treaty many years ago, long before Castiel had ever even presented as omega, stating that they would avoid war at all costs. It seemed that they would attempt to uphold that treaty, even if it meant sacrificing their only heir.

And so, Castiel was promised to the Reach. He would be Mephistopheles's queen and bear him heirs to avoid war. It was his duty. And he had forsaken it.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel had ran. He ran until his shoes had shred themselves against the ground and fallen off his feet. His knapsack's straps had worn and failed him, leaving him with no food, no money and no medicine to suppress his heats. He would have been doomed if the small barn the Winchesters owned had a working lock. Luckily for him, it didn't.

His pursuers wouldn't be able to follow his trail past the pastures, his scent mingling with those of the farm animals. Cows, horses, sheep, pigs and chickens became his unlikely saviors. He had scoffed at the thought of it as he rolled himself in the muck to mask his scent before carrying on and hiding in the barn as the soldiers passed by.

His plan had worked but his victory was short-lived. As he turned, he was faced with a farm-hand wielding a crossbow aimed directly at his heart.

 


	2. How would you treat a runaway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to recap; Castiel is the omega prince of a kingdom called "the Border". His father has arranged a marriage for him to quell the threat of a three way war between "the Border" and two neighboring kingdoms; "the Reach" and "the Meadow". The Reach's king has failing health and a tyrannical heir, Mephistopheles. The only way to keep Mephistopheles's alpha bloodlust in-check would be for him to take an omega bride. Castiel is ordered to marry Mephistopheles, but he is terrified and he runs away.

"What's your name?" The farmhand asked him.

"What?" Castiel was taken aback. He was the prince, everyone in the kingdom should know who he is long before they are close enough to him to address him personally.

"I said 'WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME.'" He began to shout, bow shaking in the wake of his increasing fury. Castiel could smell the stench of alpha on him, but he could not tell if the scent belonged to him or perhaps his partner because Castiel's nose was confused by the strong scent of the animal excrement he had rolled in while previously escaping his pursuers.

"TELL ME YOUR NAME RIGHT NOW OR MY BOLT WILL PIERCE YOUR HEART!" The farmhand shouted, raising his bow to take aim.

"Castiel." He answered, using all of his reserve to remain calm. "My name is Castiel."

The man lowered his bow only slightly. Confusion swept across his features.

"Castiel? 'Prince Castiel of the Border' Castiel? Do you take me for a fool?" He scoffed, raising his weapon once again.

What on Earth is this man's problem? Castiel identified himself, as he had so demanded. Shouldn't he be pleased? Wait, why was Castiel worried about what a farmhand's opinion? He shook the thought from his mind.

"You must be a fool if you do not recognize me. I am Castiel. Now, take your bow and leave me be." He waved the man off, trying to duck into a small pile of hay, hoping to further mask his scent in case the search party made its way back 'round to try to pick up on his trail again.

"What would possess you to take the name of a prince and try to pass yourself off as him? For Joviah's sake, you're covered in muck, man! No person in their right mind would roll around in that filth, let alone a prince! And get out of my hay! You're going to get the sheep sick!" He made a grab for Castiel's leg, sticking out from the pile, and pulled him from under it.

"Release me!" He struggled against the man. How dare he touch a member of the royal family, much less drag him across a barn floor?

"Release you?! You hide in MY barn claiming to be my prince whilst I catch you running from the Imperial Guard and order me to RELEASE you? I should turn you in and have you hanged for treason against the Border!" He grabbed Castiel's wrist, pulling him towards the doors.

Castiel ripped his arm from his grip, backing away and rubbing his sore flesh.

"Treason? YOU are the one committing treason! How dare you injure your prince, deny him shelter and threaten him; all in the same breath! The nerve!" He smacked against the clumping grime on his cloak. It was drying, and soon would cover his scent no more than a clove of garlic might.

Another man entered the barn at that moment.

"Dean, does the neighbor still have the mule? I'd like to plou----" His thoughts cut short, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at Castiel. He must have made a quite the sight, covered in dung and hay and hiding in a stranger's barn with no shoes on his feet. He was beginning to get flustered and embarrassed by it all, his cheeks reddening. Maybe he really couldn't be recognized in his current state.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Joviah" is the god of the religion that I will be implementing for this story (I made it up myself; if I offend anyone, let me know and the myths can be changed). It won't be a major factor in the story itself but you should know a bit about it.  
> Joviah is considered to be a multi-dimensional sentient being that takes the form of an elk when visiting Earth. Many pastures entertain herds of elk, letting them graze and go about their business without interfering with them. A lone visiting elk is said to be an omen from the god himself. If the visiting elk nods, the omen is a blessing; if it taps its foot on the ground, the omen is a warning.  
> Lone visiting elk are messengers for Joviah, only leaving the herd to do his bidding. Joviah never leaves his herd while on Earth, except to speak directly to a member of a royal family.


	3. Sanctuary

The second farmer came in through the barn doors. He was much taller than the first, and his hair was long enough to be styled like a woman. He had the first man's scent all over his own, were they mates? Castiel scented the air, it went unnoticed for the time being.

The two exchanged glances, the taller one's eyes flicking from the first man, to the crossbow, to Castiel; who was still on the barn's floor with his pant legs in the grip of the first farmer. Oh no... What if this second man really is the first man's mate?! He'll probably think Castiel is here as a mistress! Or even a harlot!

The taller man's eyes fell on Castiel, still widened.

"Dean." They snapped back to the first farmer. "Dean, let him go." He pleaded.

"What? No! Sam, he's running from the Imperial guard! Hiding in OUR barn! We have to--"

"DEAN. That's King Charles' only son!" He harshed out in a whisper, jerkily gesturing towards Castiel in his upturned pose. "Put. Him. Down."

The first farmer, Dean, dropped Castiel's pant legs like a hog's leg fresh off the fire.

Castiel sat up, finally released from Dean's grip, he checked himself for injuries. Scrapes or bruises. Like any of that even mattered anymore.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, holding out his hand to Castiel. Castiel took it and allowed himself to be assisted into a standing position.

"I believe so." He checked himself again to make sure. "Thank you for convincing your mate to release me. He didn't believe me when I told him who I was."

"Yeah, and I still don't! The only reason I'm not hauling your arse off to the guard is a'cause Sammy here." He pointed at Sam with his thumb. Castiel noticed he was still armed.

"M'lord, I apologize for my brother. He knows not of the laws surrounding protection of the royal family. He is but a simple farmer."

Brother? And... Mates..? Both? Castiel blushed. They hadn't corrected him when he had called Dean Sam's mate, so it must be. He hid his face, as is customary when blushing or otherwise emoting.

"Please," Sam began; "Do not hold his idiocy against him. We are at your mercy." He knelt in front of Castiel, pulling his reluctant... Brother? Mate?... down with him.

Castiel finally felt a sense of normalcy, he was used to his subjects bowing before his feet; though this usually occurred in the castle, his own home, and not in a barn on another man's property. Honestly, he's at their mercy, and he knows it. But it's nice to be treated like royalty again after the incident that just occurred.

"Gentlemen, please, stand with me." They stood, and he addressed them, suddenly reminded of the situation. "I ran from my duty and am being hunted. But I cannot go back to that place! Please, for all that is holy in this land, do not alert the guard to my whereabouts." He pleaded with them, desperation curling tightly in his chest.

Dean shuffled on his feet. Clearly he was not going to be the one making the decision. Castiel turned to Sam, as he could see he was the more compassionate of the two.

"Please." He pleaded again, pulling his hands to his chest, as if to alleviate the pressure building there.

Sam had a worrying look on his face. Would he really deny his prince refuge in his time of great need? Castiel would understand. He has no skills or money to his name, he would be a great and dangerous burden with the legion hunting him as they so were. He resigned himself to his fears. A burden too great for simple farmers to bear.

"We offer you our home as refuge if it shall suit you, milord, with our deepest apologies and pray for your forgiveness. We will do our best to accommodate and care for you and your needs." He gave a gesture of sincerity and loyalty, not unlike one of a knight to a king.

He could hear the troops coming 'round. Their footsteps grew louder, closer with every step as they thumped against the packed earthen roads. He knew they had lost his trail, knew they would come back to look for him. The three men turned to the direction of the noise, bracing for what was to come.

"I am humbled by your generous offer of sanctuary and I accept, for I am very much in need of it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm sure you noticed that Castiel assumed the brothers are mates, I made that pretty clear I think.  
> Of course, they aren't. This is a destiel fic, don't worry.  
> They may not have heard, or may have chose to ignore it when he said it. (I mean, hey, in the show people always seem to think they're a couple at first, right?) It'll be addressed later, but for now, with Castiel's nose being confused by the animal muck and the fact that the boys live together (and thus have each others' scents intertwined) Castiel is going to treat them as a mated pair.  
> Don't worry about it.


	4. Why he ran - and kept running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING. Implied(?) rape attempt, and/or threats of that nature. Nothing intense, nothing graphic. Tread carefully if you wish to proceed. 
> 
> I will be putting a buffer space and a "warning section" in bold print within a double page break in case you want to skip this part. (there is a page break before this that should not be skipped though.)

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Castiel knew his duties and he knew them well. He hadn't planned on running from them. He never would have thought, not in a million years, that he would have been so weak as to forsake the safety of his kingdom for his own. He hadn't planned on it.

In fact, he was completely willing to partake in the arranged marriage for the sake of his people. He attended every meeting his father arranged with the king of the Reach. He felt that he could be comfortable in this new castle, new life. He packed his things and got in his carriage willingly. He met the prince willingly.

Castiel wasn't going to let the prince's reputation of violence deter him from getting to know his soon-to-be husband and mate. He was going to be on his best behavior.

 _Be calm._ He said to himself. _Be gentle._

He couldn't risk upsetting the prince. Couldn't risk being rejected by him. The stakes too high and the king too fragile in health. This had to be done right. They couldn't afford a slip up. Didn't have time to look for an alternative if he was rejected.

He had never met the prince before. He was not excited, but he knew it was his duty.

He woke that morning, much like every morning, being pampered by his servants. Primped and groomed, bathed and perfumed. Unlike most days, he would be wearing his most exquisite jewelery, his most form-fitting gown. His teeth would be scrubbed until his gums bled and his hair brushed until his scalp was raw. His hair done up so tightly that he could hear a few strands snapping from the pressure. Everything had to be perfect. He had to be perfect.

His meeting went accordingly. He chatted with the king and ate sparingly as they discussed simple matters as they waited for the prince to arrive. Castiel's father was there for him and to meet his future son-in-law. Castiel was comforted by his presence.

The prince arrived twenty minutes late, but seemed surprisingly unaffected by it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~don't skip this page break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Ah! Mephistopheles, my son!” The sickly king announced upon seeing the prince pass by the door. Had he not known where the meeting was taking place? Is this why he was late?

The king called out for him again. “I say! Boy! Look who has come!”

Castiel didn't want to think that reluctance was the reason he was avoiding the calls of his father. He refused to think the prince did not want to see him.

The prince stepped inside the room and gripped his sword as he bowed before Castiel's father, as any prince with manners would.

He did not bow to Castiel. Castiel did not expect him to. He did, however, smile in his direction. Castiel did not expect him to. It caught Castiel off-guard and his demeanor faltered, barely noticeable. Castiel was sure that the smug look on Mephistopheles's face meant that he had, in fact, noticed.

The meeting went by quickly. They talked and talked and ate and ate, Mephistopheles and Castiel both on their best behavior. The kings relaxed, as kings do. When the kings wanted to discuss wedding plans, they had the princes ushered out of the room.

Mephistopheles was kind and charming in the face of their fathers, but as soon as the door was closed behind them his true personality was revealed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WARNING, SECTION CONTAINS TRIGGERING SCENES~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

* * *

 

 

He grabbed Castiel by the wrist and tugged him along. He kept watch for servants and covered Castiel's mouth when he tried to call for someone to take notice. He pulled and pushed and guided Castiel to a room populated by sheet-covered furniture and dust.

Castiel could tell, by the state of the room, that no one was going to find them here. No servant had stepped inside this room for ages, not even to clean. He knew screaming for help would not only be futile, but would enrage the prince as well.

Castiel refused to show how terrified he really was when the prince approached him.

“Oh, sweet prince.” He cooed, backing him up to the wall. He crowded him. Put his hands on Castiel's face.

He kept his emotions in check, he didn't flinch when Mephistopheles reached for him.

“What ever would your people think if they could see you now, here, in this room with me, alone.” He caressed his cheek with his thumb. Castiel tried to turn away. “They would mutter amongst themselves. Speak of indecent things. Of all the things I could be doing to you right now.” He put his other hand on Castiel's hip and leaned in toward his face.

Castiel tried to loosen Mephistopheles's grip on him. Wanted to get away.

“What would they think of their beloved prince, if he was deflowered before his wedding night? Would they mourn the loss of his innocence?” He hiked up Castiel's skirt. “Or would they call you a whore?” He spat venomous words, intended to injure. Castiel could feel his icy fingertips graze his thigh. The prince's intentions were clear when he bent in to nuzzle at Castiel's scent glands.

 

 

* * *

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SCENE END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Castiel clawed at his face, drew blood, pried his hands off of him and ran.

And he didn't stop running. He didn't stop running when he passed the room with two kings, he didn't stop running when he passed the servants quarters, he didn't stop running when his shoes fell apart or when his pack fell from his shoulders. He didn't stop running until he reached the Winchesters' farm. And he was prepared to run again if he had to.

 


	5. A Roll in the Hay

The farmers looked towards each other, staring into eyes as if they were peering straight into the soul of the other. The Legion was advancing, you could feel their combined weight making an impact on the earth beneath their feet, stomping in unison as if their mission had a rhythm of it's own. Dean let out a shaking breath.

 

“Let's get this over with.” He said and immediately made a grab for his neck, Sam mimicking his movements on his own body. Castiel didn't have long enough to make his own assumptions as to what they were doing. He could smell their scents mingling thickly in the air around them, heavy and woodsy in nature. He could see their hands, fingers massaging, prodding at their glands, milking the oils out of them.

 

“Here's the plan,” Sam says, not taking his eyes off of Dean as he addresses Castiel, “You hide under the hay, Dean and I will go out there and talk to the soldiers. With our scents like this they're not gonna want to come in here, much less look around.” He's starting to pant, arousal seeping into their scents, as is to be expected. Massaging the scent glands beneath the ears is one of the most common and effective forms of foreplay known.

 

Castiel soaks in the information as best as he can. He's too distracted by the intimate scene taking place before him to fully grasp the words being directed at him. He tears his eyes away and turns to the hay piles, getting on his knees to crawl inside.

 

This is a very strange thing for mates to do, even if they are brothers. Such a public and lewd show of intimacy would be punishable by hanging if they weren't on their own land.

 

“Wait.” Dean says just as Castiel begins to shift the straw to make room for his body. “I can still smell him.” He's rubbing his hands over Sam's chest and belly when Castiel turns back around to look at them.

 

“You're right.” Sam agrees, giving Dean's body the same treatment as he's receiving. “My prince, I'm sorry, we have to scent you." He thought for a moment. "The hay too.”

 

Castiel groaned. He had already taken note of the animal muck's fading intensity. It was still flaking off of his skin. He wasn't looking forward to smelling like a slut with two mens' scents echoing off of him masking his own in such a way that he would be unidentifiable by smell, but it was what he had to do. He sulked over to them. They made haste, smothering him in their oils and the three rolled in they hay to make it stink of them before Castiel crawled underneath, not a second too soon.

 

The legion halted, fear wracked Castiel's body and was only overshadowed by his aching anticipation. He stilled, tried to halt his breathing as the brothers, with their hair mussed and full of hay and their clothes disheveled, opened the barn doors to greet their doom. Smelling of each other, air in the barn wafting out heavy with arousal, they met the army on their farm.

 


	6. Your Actions are Repugnant

The doors opened fully, revealing the brothers to the soldiers, and the soldiers to them. The barns' air flowed violently outwards and many soldiers recoiled in disgust as it passed them. One soldier stepped forward, clearing his throat and trying his damnedest not to cover his nose. The brothers froze as he continued to creep closer. Sam pretended an attempt of straightening out their purposefully disheveled clothing to seem more embarrassed.

He wasn't embarrassed though; he was terrified. If their plan failed, he and his brother could be executed for harboring a fugitive from the king, or worse, their crops could be burned and they would starve to death by winter. As for what could happen to Prince Castiel... Joviah only knows what would happen to him. As the soldier draws closer and closer, his fear only grows. His fear grows even farther when he reaches them.

He leans in close, sniffs his shoulder. He grunts in disapproval and continues on, past the brothers.

At first, Sam is confused, but then he realizes what this could mean. Did the soldier smell Castiel on them, even through all the scents they used to mask him?

He walked past them, and right to the barn. He gripped the door and used all of his restraint not to slam it closed. He looked inside, took a small breath, scenting the air. The brothers could hear the retch in his throat and the soldier shut the doors, apparently satisfied. Their plan had worked. Sam sighed in relief and the soldier returned to their front to address them.

“What you two have done to each other, the acts you have committed, are reprehensible and revolting. Though your actions are repugnant, we are here for a different reason.” He paused, turned to face them as he just reached their front. “There is reason for alarm, farmers. The fugitive we are pursuing has evaded us. Our trackers lost his scent in your fields.” He began pacing in front of them. “This man is a traitor to our kingdom and an instigator of war. We have reason to believe he is still on the premises. We will be searching the area regardless of your wishes," He paused, seeming to rethink his decision. "...But having observed the fact that an alpha owns this land, we would appreciate your blessing to do so.”

He extends his arm decidedly towards Dean, fist closed and wrist exposed, full of confidence. Dean hesitates and looks to Sam for guidance. Sam gestures towards the commanding soldier subtly with a small jerk of his neck and Dean accepts his judgment. Dean takes his arm opposite of the soldier and rubs his wrist against his in a show of trust and agreement.

The soldier nods towards him and turns on his heel to address his troops. They head off in the direction of the corn silo, splitting into two groups to cover more area.

The brothers look to each other and let out small sighs of relief, knowing that this was not over but they had earned a small victory.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed the story!


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